


There's More To It Than Football

by Lirry_loves_Ziall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Football | Soccer, M/M, Making Love, Sexual Content, Ziall Horlik, basically I know nothing about the sport, larry stylinson - Freeform, sorry for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:36:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirry_loves_Ziall/pseuds/Lirry_loves_Ziall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson has worked way to hard for this moment.  He's spent nearly eleven years of his life preparing for this exact situation: a tryout for Manchester United's draft team.<br/>So, there is no way he's going to let some eighteen year old hot-shot with dimples and curly hair ruin his chances.<br/>No matter how attractive the young star is.</p><p>Or.<br/>The one Louis trys out for Manchester United and so does Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's More To It Than Football

**Author's Note:**

> I literally know nothing about football/soccer. All my facts are probably 100% wrong.  
> I'm okay with that. If it bothers you, please don't hate me.  
> I'm Canadian, hockey is my thing kay?
> 
> A massive thanks to my bestie/tumblr co-owner/real life co-worker/editor, for editing this monster.
> 
> Enjoys loves.  
> .xx

Louis has worked way too hard to get to this moment.  He’s dedicated nearly eleven years of his life to being the best midfielder he could be.  His body was basically built for the position.  His shorter stature enabled him to run faster, strong legs helping him sprint up and down the field at any given moment.  He’s spent nearly every evening after school running drills and forcing his three best mates to help him.  He earned this tryout: a spot on Manchester United’s draft, the one they picked their players from.  It was his one way ticket to being on the team of his dreams, and nothing was going to get in his way.

Not even some eighteen year old hot shot with dimples and curly hair can take that away from him. 

Louis belongs here, he deserves to be here, and this _kid_ doesn’t.  _He’s not even from the same city;_ Louis thinks lamely, he knows it doesn't matter.  None of his best friends are from the same city as he is; one of them is even from Ireland.

“You’ve gotta let it go mate.”  Louis hears his drill partner Liam, call from a few feet away.  “It’s been like two days already,” he says passing the ball to Louis.  He chooses to ignore Liam and dribbles the ball over to Niall, the resident ‘Lucky Charm’.  He stopped halfway, setting himself up for the pass.

“Liam’s right, ya know,” Niall starts in a thick Irish drawl.  “Not his fault you’re trying out for the same team,” he shrugs.  Louis narrows his eyes and kicks the ball to the blonde.  Niall smirks as he catches the ball with his chest, guiding it to the turf.  “Or the same position,” he mocks laughing loudly when Louis presents him with the middle finger.

Niall has a lot of forward skill for a defender, pulling off a few showy tricks with practiced ease.  He’s never afraid to charge anyone who got too close to the net; too close being anyone who dared to cross the center line.  He fakes to the left, hoping to fool the keeper, and kicks right.  Unfortunately for him, the keeper didn’t fall for it and stops his shot easily.

“Nice try leprechaun,” Zayn teases getting up from the ground.  “I love you, but you gotta get some new moves baby,” he winks, chuckling as Niall flips him off.  It’s no secret Zayn and Niall were a pair, both on and off the field.  Louis swears the lads had been dating long before Niall even came to England.  The second he landed, Zayn pounced on him.  When Louis had expressed a very brief interest in the blonde, Zayn nearly bit his head off. 

They’re even better on the field too.  Zayn’s an unbelievable keeper with a near perfect shut-out streak during the season.  His lean body allows him to be incredibly agile, and his patience helps him read plays and make excellent predictions for their outcomes.  Niall is the boy’s star defenseman, and very few balls actually make it past Niall in a match.

Zayn picks up the ball and throws it to Liam, one of the best centers Louis’ ever seen.  At 5’11, Liam’s tall, broad and powerful.  He’s sharp, has amazing accuracy, and a strong kick which makes him one of the top scores at the tryout.  He has even managed to get the ball past both Niall and Zayn, a skill that won him a seemingly guaranteed spot on the team.  Liam places the ball on the ground firmly, setting himself up for a shot.  Zayn’s smirking confidently, starring Liam down like a predator hunting its prey.  It’s an adrenaline rush for Louis, watching some of the best young talents play against one another, nice to know he was considered one of them.

“Wipe that grin off, Malik,” the coach shouts, watching the boy’s practice.  “Payne’s beat you a few times, I hear.”

“Three, at most,” Zayn calls back, his eyes still focused on Liam, who’s started towards the ball.  He jogs up to it quickly, kicking it at the perfect angle, hoping it ends up just out of Zayn’s reach.  The darker lad jumps up and actually punches the ball up and away from the net.  “Not even close!” Zayn shouts happily, but Liam just shrugs.  If all went well, it wouldn’t be Zayn he’d need to beat.

“I’m just saying,” Liam continues.  “You can’t be mad at him for trying out.  He wouldn’t even be here if he wasn’t good enough.”

“That’s not the point Liam,” Louis sighs.

“Enlighten me.”               

“He shouldn’t be here, trying out for my position!”

“He’s not the only one who is, you know.”

“No, but he’s the only one Louis’ in love with,” Zayn jokes, heading over to the pair.

“I’m not in love with him,” Louis snaps.  “We spent one night together.”

“And the entire next week,” Liam reminds, receiving a glare from Louis.

“Whatever, I’m not in love with him,” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.  “This is all your fault anyway.”

“What?” Zayn gasps faking hurt.  “How ever could that be?”

“‘One drink Louis, that’s it, to celebrate, just one’,” Louis mocks, pushing his voice an octave higher.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who made you take him home, that was all you,” Zayn says, watching as Liam tries to take a shot on Niall.  The Irishman leaps to the right, reaching out with both hands, successfully stopping the attempt.  In shock and excitement, Niall pulls himself off the ground and starts running towards Zayn.  He has his fists in the air, hollering wildly as he gets closer, a mega-watt smile covering his pale features.  Louis doesn’t even have to look at Zayn to know how excited he is.  “Maybe this is a sign you should learn to keep it in your pants,” Zayn smirks, patting him on the shoulder before running off to meet Niall.

“Maybe you should learn to fuck off,” Louis sneers quietly, as Liam gave Niall a high five. 

“Tomlinson!” the coach bellows. 

“Yes coach,” he grumbles, jogging past the other three lads.  Zayn has wrapped Niall up in his arms, giving the substitute keeper a rough kiss on the lips before setting him down.  Zayn’s grinning like a fool, painfully proud of the lad’s accomplishment.  Maybe it wasn’t _really_ their fault Louis had taken the hot shot home that night but, _I’m definitely not in love with him,_ he sighs. 

He trains his attention to the shirt with the number 28 on the back, the name _Styles_ printed in black ink.  Louis watches as his curly hair flopped wildly as he ran, a huge smile spread across his mature features.  _Those fucking dimples_ , Louis thinks, his blue eyes on the pair of green ones directed at him.  Louis slowly turns away from the smile, trying to hide the unwelcome blush creeping over his cheeks, _I really should learn to keep it in my pants._

**

“Just one, right?” Louis asked sternly. 

“Just one, I promise,” Zayn said ecstatically.  Louis sighed, he really didn’t feel like going out and getting drunk, but his friends were determined to party.  The four lads had all managed to be invited to try out for London’s football club.  They were one step closer to their dream of making it big and now they wanted to celebrate.

“Alright, fine, I’ll go,” Louis gave in, rolling his eyes when the other boys cheered loudly.  Liam and Zayn hauled him off the couch, bombarding him with false punches and playful tackles till the taxi arrived.  As soon as they got to the bar, Zayn bought everyone a round of shots.  Louis knew it wasn’t going to be a one drink kind of night anymore.

He was three shots and eight beers into the evening, with shot number four ready to go.  His friends had, in his eyes, abandoned him to shamelessly flirt with their significant others.  Liam was in some back corner, with one hand threaded into the red curls belonging to his girlfriend, pinning her to the wall with the other.  Niall had dragged Zayn to the dance floor, provocatively grinding his hips against the darker males.  Zayn had his lips firmly attached to the column of Niall’s neck, sucking a bruise that was sure to last a few days. They all seemed like they were living in their own world, completely oblivious to anyone else around them.  Namely Louis, which is why he was sitting alone at the bar, about to take the awaiting shot.

“Is anyone sitting here?” A husky voice asked, barely grabbing Louis’ attention.  He quickly downed the vodka, feeling the burn in his throat. 

“Nope,” he said with a sound of satisfaction, not bothering to look up at the person who was talking.

“Okay,” the man chuckled.  “Mind if I sit down?”

“Nope,” Louis replied quickly, keeping his attention focused on his Heineken.  The man continued his small laugh as he sat down next to Louis and ordered a beer.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the bartender put down another beer, the same one as his.  He briefly thought the guy had seen how little beer he had left and got another ready.  Only a large hand reached out from beside him and grasped the bottle instead.

“So what brings you to a bar all by yourself?” he asked cheerfully.  It was upon answering his question did Louis bother to look at who he was talking to.

“I’m not al-” he started facing the lad, words getting caught in his throat.

The man before him was undeniably beautiful.  He had chocolate colored hair, green eyes, slightly tan skin and full pink lips.  Louis couldn’t take his eyes off them, especially when the other boy ran his tongue smoothly over the bottom one.  He was wearing an off-white button up shirt that exposed the majority of his upper torso, showing off the two birds and the tip of a butterfly tattoo’d into his smooth skin.  He had a white and black stripped bandana in his hair and black skinny jeans covering his lower half.  Louis cleared his throat suggestively, his blue eyes narrowing.

“I’m not really alone anymore am I,” he rephrased, straightening his posture.  He left the sentence open so he could learn the name of his new friend.

“Harry,” the man offered deeply, extending his hand for Louis to shake.

“Nice to meet you Harry,” he said, holding onto Harry’s hand for a tad longer than normal.  “I’m Louis.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harry smirked.  “Can I buy you a drink?”

The rest of the night was a blur of dimples, curls and bright green.  The two boys spent most of their night at the bar, laughing and talking about anything and everything, like they’d known each other for years.  They stayed at the bar even after his friends had caught a ride home.  Despite Liam’s concern, Louis chose to stay later, right up till the bar closed and tossed him and his new friend out. 

Not once throughout the evening had Louis expected to take Harry home.  Sure, he wanted more than anything to see how the lad would look on top of him, breathless and flush.  But their chats had steered clear of any overly forward innuendos or suggestions regarding their sleeping arrangements.  When they had gone outside Louis was fully ready to grab Harry’s number and hail a taxi for himself.

Only the next thing he knew, he was pushed up against the cold brick wall of the bar.  A sharp pain seared through his body at the contact, but was quickly numbed when his head connected with the wall.  Harry’s full lips were pressed roughly against his own, immediately opening his mouth.  Louis didn’t protest, easily copying the lad’s actions.  Harry slowly dragged his tongue along Louis’ bottom lip, moving closer and closer with every kiss.  The Doncaster lad was growing impatient, darting his own tongue to meet Harry’s.  The feeling ignited a spark somewhere low in his belly, making him pull the taller boy against his body.  Harry’s large hands were holding Louis’ hips to his own, grinding against each other, almost begging for some kind of friction.  He slowly dragged his lips along the shorter boys jaw, teeth scrapping against the sensitive patches of skin.  Finally his lips found Louis’ pulse point, and started sucking gently at it, his tongue slipping out to lick at the faintly forming bruise.  Louis let out a low moan, digging his blunt nails into the back of Harry’s board shoulders, causing the lad to bite harshly into his flesh.  He let out another, more animalistic growl, one that rang out from somewhere deep inside of him. 

Louis felt like he was high, like the world around him was fading out.  A soft, welcomed haze clouded his senses, more so his vision.  It only heightened the feeling Harry’s beautifully sinful touches.  His lips were burning hot against Louis’ flesh, leaving trails of invisible liquid fire along the expanse of his neck.  With every kiss, Harry rolled his hips forward, expertly dragging his semi-hard length against Louis’.  It was nearly enough to make him see stars. 

He knew the friction of their hips grinding on each other wasn’t going to be enough.  He wanted more, _needed_ more.  He was desperate for a release that wasn’t going to happen in the alley behind some dungy bar.  He gently eased Harry off his neck, fists clutching the lad’s shirt, a whispered _take me home_ leaving his lips.

As soon as they got inside Louis’ front door, he spun around and practically threw Harry against it, rushing forward and covering Harry’s lips with his own.  His tongue quickly invaded the other’s mouth, giving him a moment to catch on and fight for dominance.  Within seconds Harry responded, forcing his tongue past Louis’ lips, briefly taking control.  Louis had his hands in Harry’s curls, tugging gently at the strands, sending chills down the lad’s spine.  Harry wrapped his arms around Louis’s waist, flattening his hand across the expanse of the boy’s back and pulling him close.  After a few moments Louis pulled away, resting their foreheads together, their lips still brushing as they took in some much needed oxygen.

“You want this right?” Louis whispered.  Harry moved his head back further, confusion in his eyes.

“Yeah, definitely,” he said, a little breathless.

“Good,” Louis confirmed, pressing a quick, but firm kiss to Harry’s mouth.  “Then let’s go, yeah?” he finished leading the curly haired lad upstairs. 

Thinking back there were a lot of things Louis shouldn’t have done that night.  The first; going to that bar.  He should’ve ignored his friends protests, except they’d threatened him by saying he was probably too old to stay out late anyway.  There was no way Louis was going to let his slightly younger friends take the piss out of him.  The second was taking Harry home.  It was a really bad idea, but he was lonely, and tired of his friends acting all in-love around him.  He couldn’t help himself really; Harry was a good looking chap, why not? His third mistake was during the night, when he looked up into a pair of big, beautiful, green eyes and couldn’t look away.

Harry was above him, panting heavily and thrusting into him relentlessly.  His movements were quick, shallow and deliberate, laying a near constant pressure to Louis’ prostate.  A particularly rough thrust forced Louis’ eyes to open, and that’s when he saw it.  Inside those green orbs, behind the cloud of lust, was something Louis couldn’t quite put his finger on, adoration or trust maybe? Whatever it was reached out and grabbed a part of Louis’ soul, and wouldn’t let go.  The new feeling suddenly added to the pleasure he was already experiencing, letting out a gasp mixed with a moan.  He dug the heels of his feet into Harry’s back, forcing the lad deeper inside him.  Harry kept his eyes locked with Louis’ allowing the brunette to see a flicker of something primal, a determination he hadn’t noticed before.

Louis couldn’t handle it any longer.  His entire body was tensing up, preparing for the most powerful orgasm of his life.  It started in his abdomen and raced through his body, making even his toes curl.  He pulled Harry so close the lad was resting almost all of his weight on Louis.

“Harry,” Louis’ whined through heavy pants.  “I need to-please let me-I,-” he cried, tears nearly forming in the corners of his eyes.  Harry was pounding into him, the raw sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air.

“It’s okay,” Harry said through gritted teeth.  “Let go Lou, I got you,” he encouraged, and it was enough to send Louis over the edge.

He came hard, harder than he can ever remember, crying out Harry’s name as spurts of white covered both their stomachs.  Harry followed suit not seconds later, bucking his hips sporadically into Louis, filling him up with the warm mixture.  Both boys were panting heavily, Louis’ nails still dug into Harry’s back, keeping the lad pressed against him and inside him.  They were trembling, their muscles aching and bodies still coming down from their high.  Louis slowly released his nails, giving Harry some room to move.  Harry pulled himself up so he rested his weight on his elbows.  Louis had his head lulled back, eyes closed and mouth open.  Harry ran his fingers through the part of Louis’ fringe he could reach, pushing it out of his face.  He pressed a few open mouthed kisses to Louis’ sweat soaked shoulder, sucking on the skin and leaving behind a small bruise.  It was a reassuring act telling the other he wasn’t going anywhere just yet. 

“That was, um,” he started breathlessly, not even finishing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis agreed weakly.

“Water,” he announced, tipping his head down and placing a soft kiss to Louis’ dry lips.  He shifted gently, knowing how sensitive they both were, and using his palm to hold his weight.  He reached between their bodies and slowly guided himself out, grunting at how tight the lad still was, not missing Louis’ hiss of pain when he pulled out completely.  “You okay?” he asked, rolling off.

“Okay,” Louis managed; his body and mind exhausted.

“Okay,” Harry chucked slowly making his way to the bathroom.

The fourth and probably worst thing he had done happened later that morning.  All of the lad’s, but especially Louis, had a rule about not letting strangers stay till the morning.  They’d all agreed no one appreciated the uncomfortable morning after encounters.  Only Louis couldn’t help himself, there was something so irresistible about Harry, something that made Louis want to learn everything he could about the curly-haired lad.  When Harry returned with two bottles of water, like a true gentlemen, Louis didn’t even bother trying to kick him out.  He had even brought a warm cloth to clean themselves up with.  Louis’ body was still recovering so he let Harry wipe up the mess, something he didn’t let too many men do.  He’d always thought the aftermath was more personal.  Although, when Harry came back a second time and crawled into bed, effectively cuddling the shorter lad, Louis knew things were already personal. 

With that in mind, Louis made it his goal to learn everything he could about his new friend.  They had barely slept at all during the night, dozing off occasionally between the numerous topics they were trying to cover.  Louis couldn’t stop himself, he had so many questions to ask, and he felt like he was running out of time.  The sun’s early morning rays were making their way into his room, filling it up with a soft warm glow and creating an easy romantic mood.  Harry was laying on his back, with one arm draped over Louis’ waist, and the other behind his head, the blanket pulled up loosely around their waists.  Louis was resting on his chest, aimlessly tracing over the sparrows on his pecs, down to the wings of the butterfly just below.

“So you’re just visiting?” Louis asked, trying to keeping his voice easy.

“More or less,” Harry responded, running his dull nails up and down Louis’ arm.  He’d noticed that, much like himself, the lad had a small collection of random and hastily drawn tattoos littering his forearm.  For whatever reason, Harry felt compelled to trace each and every one of them, down to the very last detail.  Maybe they’d tell him things about the Doncaster native he wasn’t saying himself.  “Kind of a last minute thing.”

“For how long?”

“Depends on how well some things go, might stay for good.”

Louis tried to hold off, but he felt his hopes rise; the prospect of Harry staying for good was an idea he wanted to happen more than he was willing to admit.  He really wanted to see Harry again, and as often as possible.

“So, where are you staying?” he asked, knowing how it sounded.  He could feel Harry smile.

“Not sure.”

“Not sure?” Louis asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I mean, I flew in yesterday and headed straight to the bar,” he said easily.  “That duffle bag I brought? It’s basically my life.”              

“So essentially, you’re homeless,” Louis confirmed.                  

“Essentially.” 

There was a long silence where Louis was sure Harry had fallen asleep.  However, it didn’t stop him from uttering something he hadn’t even bothered to think through.

“You could stay here,” Louis blurted.  “You know, if you wanted,” he added shyly, thinking it was probably the stupidest thing he’d ever said.

“What?”

“I mean, just until you sort things out,” he trailed off.

“Lou,” Harry said louder, shifting so that Louis had to sit up.  “You serious?” he asked, eyeing Louis curiously.

“Yeah, I mean, how long?”

“About a week,” Harry answered skeptically. 

“Okay, seven days,” he countered easily, the idea of Harry staying here excited the older lad more than he would let on.

“Louis, are you serious, like is this for real?” Harry pushed, sitting up straighter.

“I’m serious, after that you can find a new place or something,” he said, hiding the hurt in the last part.

“Oh my God Louis,” Harry smiled happily.  “Thank you so much, this is incredible, thank you!” he shouted, crushing Louis in a bear hug.

“No problem, it’s just seven days right?” Louis managed.

“Yeah, seven days, wow Lou, thank you,” Harry urged, giving Louis a long kiss on the lips.  Excitedly, he flipped them over so he was lying on top, placing kisses all over Louis’ face and neck.

The thing was, seven days was all it took for Louis to become entirely infatuated with his new roommate.  He decided to become Harry’s personal tour guide, taking him everywhere and showing him all the wonders of the city.  It didn’t help matters that Harry started treating him like a boyfriend right from day one.  Louis would let Harry hold his hand, kiss him whenever the other lad fancied, and take him on dinner dates.  But most of all, Louis would let Harry make love to him every single night. 

Harry made it easy for anyone to fall for him.  He had a charming personality, a bright cheeky smile with adorable dimples, and stunning green eyes to match.  To top it off, he was physically gorgeous, the epitome of a Greek God.  He was tall, lanky and lean.  His arms and chest were toned and he sported nothing short of a six pack.  Louis had no chance; Harry was quickly becoming all he could think about.

**

“You know, you could actually go and talk to him instead of staring from afar,” Zayn whispers teasingly in Louis’ ear.

“Shut up,” he snaps back, only making Zayn chuckle.

“I’m just saying,” he finishes.  They’re all sitting on the field, waiting to hear which players got through to the following day’s tryout.  Apparently, only five players were selected for tomorrow’s tryout, meaning those five selected gentlemen were guaranteed a spot on the London team.  Louis’ a solid 90% sure Liam, Niall and Zayn have three of those spots; it would be an absolute joke if they didn’t.  Now he’s just praying he’s got one too.  Louis glances across the semi-circle and eyes the familiar mop of curly hair.

It wasn’t rocket science but it took Louis a few minutes to figure out _this_ was what Harry was talking about.  Harry had left early that morning, not even saying goodbye or leaving note about his whereabouts.  Louis couldn’t even text the lad because he’d never gotten Harry’s mobile number.  At the time, it hadn’t been necessary.  They spent nearly every moment with each other, including times when they were supposed to be sleeping.  So when he left, Louis had spent a good portion of the morning in a near state of panic.  Now that he thinks about it, all the signs were there, he just hadn’t seen them.  Sure, the boys had obviously discussed football and their fantasies of going professional and playing for club as big as Manchester. 

Except, thinking back, whenever Louis brought it up, Harry seemed to find a way to change topics.  Usually it involved a few kisses or over emphasized touches that made his breath hitch in his throat, and forget all about the weekends tryouts.  When Louis first met him, he had nothing but a small duffle bag with him.  In the bag was nothing more than exactly seven pairs of boxers, five different shirts, four pairs of trousers and football equipment.  Even though Louis knew he never used it, the gear was always just laid out right next to duffle of the floor in his room.  If Louis hadn’t been in such a worried frenzy, he would’ve noticed Harry’s missing gear.  Things had been going so well for them; Louis had actually forgotten Harry was only supposed to be there for seven days.  He had been so smitten by the younger male, his mind had drawn a complete blank on anything that didn’t involve spending more time with Harry. 

‘ _Depends on how well some things go’,_ Louis remembers, and there’s a small part of him that hopes this day goes for the green eyed lad.  But another more selfish part, hopes it doesn’t because if Harry gets drafted it means Louis won’t.  It would be highly unnecessary to have so many players covering the same position.  Still he’s worked far too hard for this moment and there’s no way he’s going to give up his spot without a fight.  The coach clears his throat and all the attention is focused on him.

“Alright, I’m going to read out the names and you boys just stay where you are.  We’ll sort it out after practice,” he says, making sure his eyes don’t linger on anyone in particular.

Louis is nervous, his knee won’t stop shaking, no matter how hard he digs his nails in to try and make it stop.  He actually has to tell himself to breathe in and out slowly, otherwise it sounds erratic and out of control.  He can tell his friends are just as nervous, everyone is, and this rooster is a big deal for all of them.  He looks to Zayn and Niall first, nearly forgetting his nerves at the sight. 

The couple are sitting close together, whispering something that looks like words of encouragement to each other.  Louis can see Zayn gently rubbing Niall’s back, dragging his fingers up and down the lad’s spine, trying to soothe them both.  It’s sweet and subtle, something their relationship usually is not.  Next Louis glances to his left, eyeing Liam.  If anyone can look calm in the most stressful of situations, it’s Liam.  He’s sitting back on his ankles, hands pressed firmly to his thighs.  Louis can hear the faint sounds of Liam’s beat-boxing, his own personal method of staying calm.  He notices Louis’ look and shoots him a warm, easy smile that actually calms him a little bit.  But out of all his friends, it’s actually Harry he worries about.  His face is solid, showing close to zero emotion, not giving anything away.  An excellent poker face. 

Except Louis has spent the last one hundred and sixty eight hours with the taller lad, so he knows Harry’s not as calm as he looks.  Those green eyes of his are swimming with _what if’s,_ questioning his skill, and though Louis’ never actually seen Harry play he still feels the need to reassure the boy that he’s good enough.  He catches those eyes and offers them a small smile. Harry tosses an encouraging nod of his own, unable to stop the grin forming on his lips.  There’s a moment where everything around Louis sort of evaporates, leaving only Harry and his charming smile behind. 

To anyone on the outside, they must look a bit ridiculous; starring at each other like nothing else mattered.  Except Louis can’t help it, for a few seconds it’s true, Harry is the only thing that matters right now.  He feels both incredibly annoyed and thrilled at the thought.  He’s surprised at how easily he’s given up the seriousness of the situation he’s in, to fall a little harder into a world that revolves solely around Harry.  All he has to do is look across the circle of men and find a pair of dimples and green eyes to forget about everything.  He’s spent the better half of his life waiting and praying for a moment like this.  Only now that he has it, it comes with the worst timing of the century. 

Louis tries to break the moment by making a funny face, but it only succeeds in making Harry’s smile even bigger, those dimples working at full force.  It’s then Liam nudges him gently, sending his mind crashing back into reality.  Louis gives Harry one last smile before both of them look away; hiding the pink that spreads over their cheeks.

“Okay, first name I’m going to call out is,” the coach pauses, smiling as he recites the name.  “Zayn Malik.”

There are several cheers and pats on the back, most noticeably from Niall.  The blonde practically throws himself onto Zayn’s back, wrapping his arms around the male’s neck and giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.  Zayn relishes under Niall’s praise, brown eyes sparkling with pride as he smiles ecstatically at the ground.  His own reaction his modest; he was never one to flaunt his accomplishments.  He was always taught that the greatest way to celebrate a victory was to continue to perform like you deserved it.  Besides, Niall has enough exuberance for the both of them.

“Alright, next up,” coach says, trying to silence everyone.  “Obviously,” he smiles.  “Niall Horan.”

Niall reacts exactly the opposite as Zayn, not even giving his partner a chance to congratulate him.  He launches himself into the air, letting out a victory war cry, before turning back to Zayn.  He raises his arms and flexes his muscles, sticking his tongue out for good measure.  Zayn rolls his eyes but there’s a distinct wolf-call everyone knows is from him.  It takes Niall a few moments of gloating before he finally sits back down again. 

“Settle down, settle down.  Third up,” he pauses.  “Liam Payne.”

Liam is just as modest as Zayn, smiling proudly at the turf.  He allows himself a quiet cheer that goes unheard by anyone except Louis.   Mostly because of how loudly Zayn and Niall react, cheering and clapping unnecessarily louder than anyone else.  Louis has known Liam the longest, playing on the same team together for two years when they were 15.  He gives his closest friend a congratulatory shove, which Liam blushes at. 

“Fourth,” Coach yells, no longer bothering to stop anyone’s reactions.  There are only two spots left, and Louis really wants one of them.  He keeps his attention focused on Liam until the fourth name is called.  He’s trying to distract himself so he doesn’t get overly nervous again.  “Harry Styles.”      

There’s just as much cheering and applause as there was for the other lads.  A few guys Harry’s met during practice are giving him congratulatory hugs.  Louis can tell his friends are clapping along, but they’re throwing him worried and sympathetic glances he tries to ignore.  It takes Louis a moment to join because his stomach drops.  He wants to be happy for Harry but he can’t, not just yet. 

Everything he’s worked for has just been ripped from his grasp and thrown away, and now he has to figure out what he’s going to do with his life.  After a beat, he produces a small cheer and claps along half-heartedly.  He can see the elation in Harry’s face as he smiles proudly to the guys next to him. 

Harry easily accepts their congratulations but it’s obvious he’s looking for someone in particular.  He quickly scans over to Louis, green eyes finally finding blue.  At first, he’s over-joyed, eager to share his success, but one look is all it takes to make his happy expression fall.  Louis instantly feels guilty for creating that sad look Harry has, knowing it’s because of him.  He desperately wants to be happy for Harry; the lad’s actually achieved his dream.  Like a good boyfriend, he should be supportive.  The issue is, Harry and he were chasing after the same dream and only one of them could achieve it. 

Louis tries his best to keep up his excitement and gives him well-earned thumbs up.  Harry’s smile only half returns, but it’s all Louis can give him right now.  He averts his eyes to the ground and rubs his palms against his face, after practice he’ll be happy for Harry.

“Alright, alright, last but not least, surprisingly enough, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis freezes, his entire body shutting down for a few moments.  He’s pretty sure he heard his name being called, but it doesn’t feel completely true.  His face is still buried in his palms; reeling from what he thought was the end of his career.  He barely registers the sounds of loud cheers and shouts of excitement before feeling a pair of hands push roughly against his shoulder.  It’s only when he’s lying on the ground, with Niall slapping his ass repeatedly, does it sink in.  He knows it was Liam who pushed him over, a friendly bit of payback and Louis doesn’t bother trying to stop the smile crossing his lips.  Against all odds, Louis Tomlinson still got drafted, he still has a shot at achieving his ultimate goal too. 

When Niall finishes his assault with a sloppy kiss to the top of Louis’ head, Liam reaches his hand out and helps his friend to his feet.  He wraps Louis up in a well-deserved bear hug, one arm around his waist and the other over his shoulder, whispering _‘congrats mate’_ in his ear.  He can feel Zayn ruffle his hair as Liam hugs him and it practically melts his heart.  Every single person he cares about has been drafted to the same team, nothing could be better. 

Louis’ brain still can’t function so all he does is smile ridiculously, his eyes suddenly scanning for Harry.  He really wants to celebrate both of their achievements.  When he finally finds the lad in the crowd he nearly cries with happiness.  The excitement and joy on Harry’s face is back.  He’s got this wide, dopey grin that makes it look like his face is going to split in two.  Louis can hear Harry hollering and clapping louder than anyone, giving him back the two thumbs Louis had sent his way.

“Alright, calm down, there’s plenty of time to screw this up,” the coach bellows, causing everyone to rise to their feet.  “You still have the rest of your practice, let’s go.”

For a minute, Harry and Louis stare at each other with goofy, over the top expressions on their faces.  It’s almost embarrassing how long it took him to realize why Harry was in town.  How, if things didn’t go well today, he’d be on a plane home in just a matter of hours.  The thought makes Louis’ a bit sad, but luckily for him things worked out quite well anyway.    

“Congratulations,” Harry finally says, extending his hand out for Louis to shake.

“You too,” he replies, taking Harry’s large hand with his.  “This was- this was that thing that needed to go well right?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods.  “Yeah it was.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Louis blurts.  It comes out a bit more pathetic than he hoped but Harry doesn’t seem to mind.

“I honestly didn’t think it mattered,” he said gently.  “It didn’t even register you were trying out until late last night when your friends were forcing you to practice.”

“Yeah,” Louis says quietly, taking notice that they’re still shaking hands, but doesn’t make a move to let go.

“Guess it’s a good thing right?” he questions shyly, and Louis nods.  “Means I’m going to have to find that place now,” he chuckles, noticing he’s still got a smaller hand in his.  He goes to pull away but Louis holds on.

“Or not,” Louis says slowly, his eyes trained on their hands.

“Or not?”

“Maybe you could stay?”

“For good?” Harry asks, trying to hide his happiness.

“Yeah, well, until you get drafted to Man U or something,” Louis teases, both their expressions lifting.

“Good,” Harry smirks, stepping closer to Louis.  “Don’t really want to live anywhere else,” he says slowly, leaning in close to Louis’ face.  His eyes dart between the blue ones and their owners pink lips.

“Okay,” Louis says quietly.

“Okay,” Harry chuckles, quickly pressing his lips to Louis.

It was a fairly innocent kiss given they were in the middle of a football field.  Harry had fit his full pink lips right against Louis’.  There was no open mouths, no tongues eagerly slipping past to taste the other.  Just a simple act of lips gently brushing against the other, almost like learning how to kiss again.  As if the boys are teaching each other what it’s like to feel the smooth electricity that radiates from the expectation of a first kiss.  How nothing but the softness of the moment, the ease of something so wonderfully right, is all that matters.  The boys take in a long deep breath through their noses before Harry pulls away, agonizingly slowly.  He even let’s his top lip rest on Louis’ bottom one, for less than a second, before moving away completely.  He rests his forehead against the shorter lads, breathing in and out slowly. 

“Think I might wanna love you, Tomlinson,” Harry whispers.  His tone is light but there’s a hint of seriousness to it as well.

“Might wanna love you too, Styles.  A lot,” Louis replies, running his thumb over the back of Harry’s hand.

“Good, didn’t want to be the only one who loved me,” Harry teases, but Louis doesn’t have the heart to push him.  He chuckles affectionately instead, reaching up and curling his fingers around the back of Harry’s neck.  Their intimate moment is ruined by a loud whistle signalling drill time.  Harry rubs his forehead against Louis’ gently, bit annoyed they were interrupted.  He pulls way and starts to walk back in the direction Louis is facing, an overtly cheeky grin on his face.  Louis rolls his eyes at how childish the lad can be, prompting Harry to wink at him for good measure before turning to run down the field.  Louis turns away too, jogging towards his friends who all have matching grins on their faces.

“I thought him trying out for your position was the worst thing that ever happened?” Zayn mocks, throwing his arm over Louis’ shoulders.  He doesn’t even have a chance to respond before Niall comes over and throws an arm around his waist. 

“No, no,” Niall chimes in.  “It was the bar, the bar was the worst thing to ever happen.”  Louis quickly pushes the boys away from him, watching as they run off ahead of him laughing.  Louis smiles at the sight; thinking back, maybe going to that bar wasn’t the worst thing he ever did.        

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so, so much for reading this. I'm not super proud of it, slightly embarrassed really but that's okay. I always like _constructive_ criticism, so thanks for that too.  
>  Also, please feel free to follow us on [tumblr](http://catina-and-her-five-ds.tumblr.com).  
> .xx


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